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Wilfred Owen
WereWolf - Creative Essay The boy drew haggared breaths while hopelessly stumbling through the dark and forbidding forest. With a panic stricken face that spoke of desperation, the exhausted boy glanced behind him, to check for any sign of pursuit. He had been running and fleeing that thing for what seemed like hours. Overhead, the moon was bright and full, casting a pale yellowy light over the forest. It could have been nice to gaze at, but the boy had no such time. Heavy crashing footsteps sounded all too near. Then again that dreadfull unatural howl. The piercing cry echoed through the silent woods chilling the boy to the bones! With a frightened yelp, the boy continued his flight for safety. But no matter how far he ran, how hard he tried, the thing, the hunter was always only a few paces behind, pursuing relentlessly. The boy's clothes was torn and bloody, hanging in strips from his bruised body. Shurbs with thorny stems and low hanging branches s

poetry course work- WW1

Wilfred Owen

Describe in detail Wilfred Owen,s feelings about war

Wilfred Owen's poetry is a very passionate expression of outrage, sadness and horrors of war and the pity and sympathy for all those who were sacrificed in the war, owen seems to feel for everyone who took part. Owen poems are dramatic and memorable, whether it is describing the extreme anger and physical horror, such as in Dulce et Decorum est or the unbelievable mental torture in Disabled to he disgust and unrecognisable deaths in Anthem Of Doomed Youth Owen's vivid imagery and technique is what makes him one of the most memorable of war poets. his poetry invokes more from us than disgust and sympathy and gives us more uncovererd points which are brought to our attention.

One if Owen s talents is to convey his complex messages very skilfully. in Dulce Et Decorum Est this is shown in

if in some smothering dreams you too could pace/behind the wagon that we flung him

the horror and bitterness of witnessing this event becomes eternal through dreams, and through this boy who died an innocent death. war allowed no time to give his death dignity,as the surviving soldiers were to procupied trying to stay alive themselves. which makes the horror so much more real and haunting. the use of simile in the first line of the poem

bent double, like old beggars under sacks

create an image of these so-called solders being as week, poor and dirty as beggars.This was the truth that Wilfred Owen wanted to send back home as those at home thought of war as being dignified, whereas in reality war was a death sentance of life.

these feelings are also expressed in Anthem Of Doomed Youth the first line uses a simile

what passing bells for these who die as cattle

creating an image of the solders being breed to die in the slaughter of war .

Anthem of Doomed Youth and Dulce Et Decorum Est coincide the perspective view of death playing a large part in the two poems as both describe how soldiers die like cattle in a slaughter house, and have no time for a formal goodbye.

However in Disabled there is no straight forward view of death but the poem as a whole gives the feeling of mental death and torture in the ways the person in the poem used to be able to live his life to the full but since the war he hasn t.

now he will never feel again how slim girls waists are.

the repetition of voices of in the lines

voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,

voices of play and pleasure after day,

enforces the feeling of loneliness and solitude.

Disabled is a very sad poem, which expresses a lot of Owen s feelings such as empathy, sympathy and compassion.

tonight he noticed how the women s eyes

passed from him to the men that were whole.

Making the reader feel how this person in the poem has an Uncompleted life due to this war.

Owen poems show feelings of resentment to those at home who have encouraged war Dulce Et Decorum Est enforces this impression as

My friend you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

Owen tries to tell people back at home that joining the war gives you no glory just higher chances of death and pain caused by friends dying around you.

this resentment is also apparent in Disabled as it contains a very bitter -tone

Aye that was to please his

his meg

who presumably didn t stay around after he joined the war as she was with a

strong man who was whole

In Anthem of Doomed Youth the resentment of the prayers and flowers for the soldiers are mocked as useless offerings to men who are being sent as sacrifices

No mockeries for them from prayers or bells

Much anger seems to be directed towards those ignorant of the full implications of war but perhaps eventully, his poetry would make them more aware about the truth of war. As the thought of killing and watching your fellow soldier being killed and constantly trying to blank out the horrific sound would succeed to drive the truth back home. this is what Owen s poem was directed to do

the old lie: Dulce et Decorum est

pro patria mori

This is where much of Owen s originality lies, not in vague reporting but deep thought of the situation. Owen sympathies with the young men, who have no idea of the horrors of war and bitterly reject the patriotic reason for war.

Owen poetry contains recurring themes which are the notion of unseen scars, though the soldiers may return alive they will never be the same, such as in Disabled the pain of the mans life is not his disability but how the others react to him, he will never feel love or live life to the full again. the moment when

The women s eyes/ passed from him

To a strong men

is wonderfully picked out by Owen and the man is no longer being seen as a person but instead

all of them touch him like a queer disease

and though sleeps a relief for his painful life, in Owen s other poem sleep becomes hell, such as in Dulce et Decorum est where the soldiers are so exhausted they rapidly begin to lose there youths

like old beggars under sacks

coughing like hags

Yet still they marched asleep . this is where the difference lies as Anthem Of Doomed Youth solely seems to concentrate on death.

The techniques adopted by Owen in his poem underline his message. His use of speech and present tense give his poem s urgency and directness. All sound, smell, touch as well as sight increase the vividness of his images.Such as in 'Dulce et Decourum est'

"in all my dreams, before my helpless

sight /he plunges at me guttering,


Owen s use of half rhyme gives this poetry a disturbing quality that amplifies his themes and his stanzas jar as does war. I think that what Owen tries to create this. Owen uses many metaphors and similes which add's effectiveness and clarity to his poems.

The pity, sympathy, outrage and sadness of the horror of war in which Owen portrays throughout his poetry dictates Owen s own personal view of the war he lowed his escape, cutting him and barring his way. Making him more desperate, adding to his weariness. His lungs were burning, he was out of breath, the boy wanted to give up, his legs however denied him. They continued moving and running. His body was fatigued, his head ached, his muscles throbbed. Pain, his body cried out Pain, stop! He could not stop. It was gaining, only a few inches! Soon blood would be spilled! Blood will be spilled to appease the appetite of the beast! With powerfull hind legs, it lunged at it's prey from behind. Hands outstreached, claws grasping! A scream, his first and last emmanated from his throat before he fell victim to the predator! Tommy awoke disoriented and terrified, he shook his head, to discard any resudue from his nightmare. He was bathed in cold sweat. Gasping for air, and trembling from the aftershock of his nighmare, he groped his way to the bathroom. Splashing cool water on his face, he tried to convince himself that it was only a dream. That it wasn't real. But it had all seem so vivid and real. If this was the first time it happened, Tommy could have have handled it. But this same nightmare had plagued him ever since the terrible accident! Night after night, time and time again, the same terrible dream. Why does'nt it stop? Why does it keep happening? Tommy inhaled and exhaled deeply, hoping to calm his nerves. Finally able to steady his shaking form, he went back to his bed. Just face your fear, he told himself. It's all in the mind. Control it and it'll go away. He did'nt believe any of this however, he was scared, frightened to death. Tommy sat down on his bed and stared at the wall. He dared not close his eyes again, at least not tonight. No more sleep. He tried to think of happy things, nice things. Like the time he went over to his aunt's house for a party, or when his dad bought him a bike for his birthday. He tried to forget his nighmare. A cool breeze blew in from the open window, helping Tommy to relax. After a while his eyelids started to droop. His conciousness faded. Despite Tommy's fear, his exhaustion weighted more heavily on him. He had had a long day at school. Soon sleep claimed the little boy, though his mind was anything but at rest. For slowly that same dream, that frightening nightmare began to unwind itself inside of Tommy's mind. The beast... The forest... The moon... The howl... The boy tossed in his sleep and moaned! "No!", a sream sounded upstairs. Downstairs in the master bed room, John, sat bolt upright and looked around the darkened room, "What the...", he exclaimed, still dizzy from sleep. Lisa, on the other half of the matress got out of bed and put on her slipper. "John it's Tommy again, I'll be back soon." "Don't tell me, he's having those nightmares again.", he complained, rubbing his eyes to clear away the sleep. "John", his wife lectured in a sharp tone, "He's just a little boy, little boys have nightmares. I have to go and calm him down. Do you remember what happened last time?" "I remember", John replied, chagrined, he knew his wife was right, it was just that he was grumpy whenever he was awoken suddenly. "He was crying and everything", John recalled, "But Lis, this has been happening every night now for months. Don't you think we should take Tommy to a doctor or something?" "Honey, I don't think that's necessary. Just give him some time, it'll pass." "I'm not satisfied with that", John replied joining his wife, who was alrealy rushing up the stairs, "If were not going to a doctor, then we'd better do something about this ourselves!" The parents found their child rolled up into a ball. Tommy was shaking like a new born kitten. "Tommy it's all right mommy and daddy are here. No one is going to hurt you. Everything is all right." Lisa soothed her terrified son. She craddled him in her lap and gently brushed his wet hair away from his eyes. "Don't worry Tommy, Daddy's here. He'll take care of that old pesky werewolf. John motioned to the shotgun slung across his back and loaded a barrel. It was of course loaded with blanks. John thought it would be more convincing to his son if he saw that his parents are actually taking action and not just saying nothing will happen as long as their around. Talk is cheap and Tommy was old enough to understand that. "Mommy it was so horrible, like before. It was chasing me all night and then, and then..." The boy again broke down in sobbing. "John it's worse than before, this nightmare is really scaring him", Lis looked to her husband, her face was wrinkled with worry. "This does look worse than normal", her husband replied, shaking his head, "Maybe it be best if we see a doctor." "Your probrably right dear, First thing tommorow." Lis then returned her attention to their crying son. "Tommy, how about if you come and sleep with us tonight. Will that make you feel better?", Mom suggested gently, patting their son on the back. Tommy nodded through a tear streaken face. Lisa carried Tommy down to their room, speaking to him softly and urging him to relax. John followed, before going back to bed he put the shot gun back in the cabinet and locked the doors. "Dear, are you awake?", John shook his wife gently. "MMmm, John, what is it?", Lis mumbled awakening from her slumber. "I'm sorry to wake you Lis", John sighted. "It's okay, what is it honey? Whats wrong?" "Uh... It's nothing I guess. How's Tommy doing?", he asked. Lis felt the small bundle clung tightly in her arms. Tommy was fast aslep and snoring lightly. "He's doing fine", his wife replied, "John is something on your mind?" "Lis, that day we went to that Safari zoo a couple of months ago..." His wife nodded, but did'nt answer. She knew all too well what her husband was refering to. "I just can't get over it. It was such a perfect day. The kids were laughing and enjoying themselves. And then it happened.", John shook his head bitterly. " I should'nt have told Jodi that she could go feed the fishes. But she pestered me so much. I could'nt stand to see her pretty little face ruined by that... sad, disappointed look. I..." John choked, tears welled out of his eyes. "It's all my fault. I'll never forgive myself!" "Honey, stop it. It was'nt your fault. That wolf was old and diseased, it had wandered into the fish pond trail. You could'nt have know that the wolf was going to be there." Lis tried to comfort her husband, but her eyes were moistening and her voice broke. "Those damned doctors could'nt even save her", He hissed. "John, this is hard on me too. Jodi was our daughter but you've got to let go! We have to think of Tommy now. Please, lets go back to sleep or we'll wake Tommy", Lis pleaded. John immediately fell silent, his wife was right. I can never get her back, John thought. But I swear that I won't make the same mistake with Tommy. I'm going to cure my son's recuring nightmares if it's the last thing I do. Immediately the next day, the parents wasted no time to take their to see a child phsycologist. But after the etire two hour session, Tommy did'nt seem much better than when they first came. He was still disturbed, numb and terrified. He did'nt open up much and was silent the whole time. John was crushed, he desperately wanted to blame Doctor Lee. But he knew that it was'nt the doctor's fault. There was nothing lacking in her skill. It was because she has not, as yet earned Tommy's trust. To him, she was a stranger, an intruder. Dr. Lee explained that it would take weeks or even months before Tommy would sufficiently trust her and open up to her. For now, there was nothing she could do. But unkown to the parents or the doctor, Tommy had picked up something. It was something important that the doctor hand repeated to him over and over again. "Face your fear. A nightmare is just a dream. Dreams can be controlled!" The sky was darkening. He was in the middle of a desert. The wind was whipping and tearing through him. Suddenly the moon rose up into the sky. It was bright, it glowed a gory blood red. It was the only source of illumination. There were no stars. The night sky was a thick curtain of black. Fog swirled up from the ground abscuring the boy's vision. Trees started to sprout up form the desert sands. Tall gigantic trees. Weeds started to spring, after the trees were in place. It curled around the boys angle, tangling and trapping him. Then again it started. The unmistakable spine chilling howl that marked the begining of the the terror. The vicious echo in his head that would not go away. He started to run, run for his life. The beast followed and pursued. Hours of running, hours of futile running. There is no escape, there was never any escape. Everytime he was victim to the beast. He was cut, and bloody. His clothes were torn and shreded to a hundred pieces. Blood ebbed from numerous deep gashes. Closer and closer it came. The hunter smelled the blood and it's hunger is aroused. He could almost feel it's hot breath on him, the rumbling of it's ravenous hunger. Why does bother to he run? This is the end! Why not just give up? Suddenly somewher from the mist a voice called to him. "Tommy, face it, face him." The boy spun all around and tried to look through the mist. "Who's there?", he mangaed a weak squeak in between breaths. "Tommy, a nightmare is also a dream. Dreams can be controlled." "What?", the boy shouted, "what are you talking about?" Time seemed suspended at this moment. The monster was gone, the forest, the bruises. It was only him and the voice. "Face Him", the voice urged. The boy tried to comprehend what was going on. Slowly the boy understood. In a flash the nightmare was back. The werewolf was just behind him, ready for the killing pounce. The boy no longer ran. He turned around and faced the beast. From somewhere a shotgun appeared in his hand. The monster leaped, it's claws grasping for flesh. A loud bang was heard. The werewolf fell short of the boy by mere inches. The boy looked down upon his kill in triumph. But the downed creature stared to stir. It lifted it's head to glare at the insolent boy who dares defy him. Snarling, it fixed the boy with a stare from it's pupils which are nothing more than narrow slits. Mirroring hellish terror and imeasurable hate. It lashed out it's talons and sliced a deep and jagged cut on the boys abdomen. He screamed... "Ahh!", Tommy wailed. He jumped out of bed hysterical and crawled under the bed. "It did'nt work", he sobbed, "the doctor lied. It's not a dream, the werewolf is real!" Tommy trembled, even after seeing the phsycologist his nightmares still did not go away. This was the fourth time already he had tried to face his fear and banish it. But every time, no matter how hard he tried the outcome was always the same. The werewolf always got him. When the boy's parents reached him they found him murmuring again and agian, "He's gonna get me... he's gonna get me..." Tommy's face was pale, his eyes was glazed. It seemed he was in a trance, triggered by panic and confusion. He could almost hear his sister whispering in his ear, "He came for me, soon it will come for you. Halloween... Halloween, It will come at Halloween." "I don't know what else to do", an exhausted and hopeless mother admitted, "No matter how much we try he still gets those, those, dreams of his!" Liz buried her head in her hands and started weeping. John and his wife were in the kitchen. Puffy eyed and lines drawn all over their faces was proof of several sleepless and troubled nights. John came over and hugged her. "There must be a way. If there's a problem there's a solution. We'll find it soon, don't worry. Remember the other night you reminded me that desparing won't do any good, you were right. I think it's time for you to take your own advice." Liz welcomed her husband's strong arms. She nestled close to him, and took comfort in his warmth and determination. Though she was the clear thinker and the logical one, she lacked the emotional gas and determination that her husband has. Her husband though blinded at times by problems was very strong and stable. Liz thought that they complemented each other quite well and that getting married to him was the best thing that she ever did. Together, they could just mabybe get over this. Liz did not know, however, how much more their son could take, before going mad. Just tonight, they found him under the bed, off in another world, out of touch with reality. It had taken a great deal of comforting to get Tommy out of his shock. "I love you", she said. "I love you too", he replied. Both statements were sincere, from the heart. "I got it!", John yelled leaping out of bed. Liz opened her eyes groggily and tried to clear the clouds of sleep from her thoughts. Why did her husband awaken her from their much needed sleep. "Honey, what is it?" "Liz I'm sorry I woke you, after all that's happened tonight but I got an idea on how to cure Tommy's nightmares." John was was shaking with excitement. Liz had to make up her mind whether her husband was rational or not. Did he have a dream, or was he suffering under stress. Liz decided to hear what her husband had to say, instead of saying what was on the tip of her tongue, which was: "Get back into bed honey, we all had a hard night. I'm sure what you have to say can wait until morning." She looked to him and patiently listened. "Liz, Halloween is two days away. Tommy said that the werewolf would come after him at Holloween right?" John was talking so fast that his words came out as a mumble. His wife had difficulty deciphering what he was saying but she nodded. "What we can do is make Tommy actually meet and kill the werewolf. That way he won't be afraid anymore." Liz frowned, she was'nt sure if John was actually making any sense or if she was hearing him correctly. "How are we going to do that, John?", she asked. "This Halloween, I'll dress up in a Werewolf suit. We'll give Tommy the shotgun. Since he's so determined that The Werewolf is gonna come for him. He'll take it gladly. Of course we hide the real bullets and replace them with blacks. We'll send him off in the back yard that leads to that park and I'll come after him. He'll shoot me I'll pretend to die and he'll think he killed the werewolf. I then sneak away and come back to take him home. What do you think?" "John, don't you think it's a little dangerous, I mean we're going to let him have a shotgun?", Liz was hesitant, and arming a boy with a dangerous weapon was unthinkable. "Don't worry, I told you we'll make sure it's loaded with blanks.", John said with overflowing confidence. "Could'nt we give him a fake gun instead?", his wife reasoned. "Liz, our son is a smart kid he knows a real gun from a fake one. It'll give him so much more confidence knowing that he has my shotgun. And that he's finally going to kill the werewolf!" "John, I don't know about this", Lis wanted to cure her son's nightmare as much as her husband, but this was going a little too far. "Liz what else can we do? Nothing so far has worked, we've got to try something else and this is a good idea!" "Are you sure that he'll think your a real werewolf and what if he decides to take a look a what he killed? Would'nt he find out that it was all fake?", his wife persisted. "Do'nt worry, I'll take care of it, everything will turn out just fine.", her husband insisted. John urged his wife to go along with his idea so fircely that Liz finally submitted, though reluctantly. Tommy peered through the trees. It was dark, he could not make out anything, except shadows. Gray shadows that seem to dance in the night, spying on him. The only sounds he could hear was his own heavy breathing, and the occasional snap of a twig made by his uncertain steps. Clutched tightly in his trembling sweaty hands was his father's shotgun. The weapon must have been heavy for a young boy at Tommy's age, but he did'nt notice. Other concerns were preyig on his mind. The werewolf did not die in his dream, his nightmare. After he had shot it, it still came after him! It had taken his father hours to convince his son that this shot gun was actually going to get rid of the wolf. That his father's gun was special and more powerfull. Suddenly, a faint rustle sounded behind him. Tommy gulped, he swerved right and left willing his eyes to pierce the darkness. It could have only been a nightime breeze, but not to Tommy. He knew it was him, the werewolf. His first instict was to bolt and be as far away from it as possible. But Tommy suppressed his urge to run. He knew he could not run forever, he knew he had to face it sometime. The shadow loomed closer, slavering and growling, intent on it's victim. It seemed to Tommy that this shadow was blacker than night, more terrifying than any fear he had ever known in his life. It was either the wolf or him. The decision would be made now! Slowly, and with trembling hands, Tommy raised the barrel of the shotgun and pointed it at the dark shadow. Liz shifted uncomfortably in the kitchen chair and kept glancing nervously out the window. She did'nt like this idea. A sense of restlessless anxiety plauged her. She did'nt know why she felt so afraid. Calm down, she chided herself, there's nothing to worry about. Soon your son will be cured of his terrible nightmare and everything will be all right. You, you husband and your son will live happily ever after. She did'nt believe a word of it. Liz could'nt stand sitting around anymore. She stood and began pacing the lenght of the kitchen. Maybe if I just take a look at the bullets that I hid in the master bedroom cabinet I would feel better, Liz told herself. Feeling the bullets in my hands would be proof that the blanks my husband bought was in the shotgun that Tommy has. It would be proof that everything was going well. Liz hurriedly made her to the bedroom and went straight to the locked cabinet. She slipped in the key and opened the top drawer. The box of ammunition was hidden beneath a neat stack of clothes. The pile of shirts did'nt seem disturbed. Liz heaved a sight of relief. She reached under and flet the reassurance of the wooden box of bullets. Quickly she inserted another key and opened the box. It was emptly! Liz's face became deathly pale. "No", she choked. Bang! The shot echoed loudly. Yet another shot was fired, bang! A gurgled gasp escaped the lips of the werewolf, before it slumped heavily to the ground. This time it did not get back up. This time it was dead! Tommy stared at scene before him, stared at what he had just done. He was relieved that he had taken the time to look for the other bullets. He knew that the ones his dad gave him would'nt work. It seemed finally he had conquered and won. But for some strange reason, he flet that something was missing, that something was'nt quite right. As Tommy headed home, the forest was still silent. Still filled with gray, dark shadows.
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